


The Hardest Thing

by Darkflames_Pyre



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Bound Universe, Character Death, Child Loss, Gen, Mourning, references to illness and injury, the bound universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 19:03:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18155825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkflames_Pyre/pseuds/Darkflames_Pyre
Summary: A father remembers. Take this any way you wish. Can be considered a stand-alone. Also, a handful of tissues wouldn't really go awry either. Can be read as TV or Movie-verse. An old fic, originally posted on fanfiction.net. Cross-posted here for continuity.





	The Hardest Thing

I never thought I'd ever have to do this.

I never contemplated having to say goodbye to something that was so precious to me.

When I first knew that you were real, that I was once again, going to be a father, there was not even the tiniest spark of indication or knowledge that I would someday be standing in front of a gravestone with your name upon it, in a cold, windswept place that no person should ever have to rest in.

My baby boy.

The tears are flowing hot, fast and unheeded down my cheeks, mingling with the rain, falling as they do every time I come out here. It hurts so much to know that I cannot talk to you as I should be able to; face to face, eye to eye, father to son. The weight in my chest makes it so difficult to breathe. The sobs are too shallow, too tight and choked to accurately relieve the pain that makes it so hard to draw enough breath. My hands clench into fists on my knees, and I squeeze my eyes closed tighter still at the pain that rises in my chest like bile.

The knees of my trousers are mud-soaked and uncomfortable, and the lines carved into the headstone are smooth and chilled beneath my fingers, but I refuse to look at the reminder of our loss, to torture myself any further than I already have with the thoughts of what should have been.

It hurts too much. I've been through this too many times to count, and it just gets more and more difficult to keep moving forward. My sons are always going to be affected by this; more than they will ever truly realise or admit, and that tears me apart.

It is so hard to lose a brother. There is an empty space; all the feelings get lost, but never forgotten, and at the same time, they never completely fill up the aching hole that is left, yawing like a black hole. It is unbearable. Even as time passes, and we all get older, that gap will never truly get filled.

There were so many things that I wanted to tell you, Son. But I should have known that it was never meant to be.

You were here for only a short time; blazing across the sky of life like a comet. But I love you just as much as the brothers that I know wait for me at the gate with Mom. Never forget that you were so special. You still are.

Who knows what you might have achieved, had you lived just a little longer? Who knows what you might have gone on to do; who you might have known, loved, wed? What kind of father might you have been, had you been given the chance? Who could you have become had your life not been cut short by a tragic twist of cruel, merciless fate? I will never know, but I can definitely imagine and wish that things were vastly different.

You were so special; a miracle. We barely knew you were there until you appeared.

The tears are drying, like they always do; the wind whisks them all away too quickly for them to dampen my shirt, leaving nothing but the cold trail of them whispered on my cheeks. I wish that they would linger for once. Maybe they might be able to dampen instead the painful, hot burning of anger and unadulterated fury the pain that losing you has caused us all.

My father once said that there is nothing harder than having to say goodbye to someone you love, but we are made stronger because of it. The hardest thing is not letting go, but being able to move forward and live with the pain the loss of that person has caused.

The contradicting irony of that statement strikes me like a physical blow to the chest, and I bow my head against the cold of the winter as I clench my jaw to keep from roaring aloud the agony that is tearing me apart. I'd rather not be strong; I'd rather I fall. I'd give up everything I have ever achieved in my life, if only for you to have had the chance to be able to live.

My son.

We will never forget you. When the skies fall dark and the world gets cold, and we see a spark of lightning flash across the sky; we know that you are close, with all the others before you we have loved, and have been loved by.

When the wind whispers past our ears, kissing at our throats, warm and soft, and we see the heavens open up with bursts of sunlight following the storm, we will know that you are there; walking beside us through the fires of hell, soothing the way.

The Tracy family will always stand together, even as our numbers grow and diminish, diminish and grow. If we are to ever scatter to the four winds, chasing our dreams, hopes and passions, we will know that you will always be close. We will always be sure that the stars will guide us home, and you will be standing up there with our others of beloved at the helm, watching closely; ready to catch us if we should happen to suddenly be falling.

We knew you, but we could never truly know you enough in the time we had. Such a short time, but so much learned in the single, endless moments that we did.

The sun breaks through the clouds above me, and the light drizzle eases a bit. Sunlight suddenly soars across the sky, dazzlingly bright against the rain-wet grass, and it brings with it the knowledge and sure certainty that where you are, you are healthy and safe.

The warmth it gives off soaks into my shoulders, spreading its way through my chest, and it lets me know that though I am not able to stand beside you, you will always be here with me, with your brothers, should they ever have need of you.

I lay my hand fondly against the rain-wet stone, the rays of new light shining against your name, immortalised in stone, and I smile; a little bittersweet at the too-small amount of memories that I have with you.

My son.

Rest in peace.


End file.
